The ground was cold beneath him. Damp. Gritty.
Aeric stirred, groaning as pressure throbbed behind his eyes. His fingers twitched against dirt and gravel before curling into fists. Every muscle screamed. His whole body felt like it had been dragged through a blender and duct-taped back together.
He sucked in a shaky breath, chest still sore from the earlier chaos. Every inhale burned.
Okay… still breathing. That's something.
He rolled onto his back, staring up at a pale gray sky just beginning to lighten. The sharp chill in the air told him it was early — too early — and nearby he could hear the muffled clang of metal, voices calling out to one another, wheels squeaking over cobbled stone.
The Gulch was waking up.
Somewhere nearby, someone was hammering in tent stakes. Another person barked about table placements. A vendor wagon rolled past, rattling and squealing, its merchant already half-arguing with a sleep-deprived helper.
Aeric sat up slowly. His entire body protested the motion, sore and trembling.
He took in his surroundings — worn dirt path beneath him, jagged stone cliffs rising high on all sides. He wasn't on the platform. Not near the dungeon's gate either. Off to the side of the main thoroughfare, half-hidden by brush and rock.
Lying in a ditch.
His gaze drifted to a familiar shape a few feet away — motionless, stocky, blood-red.
The golem.
Still caked in black dust, arms crossed like it had been standing guard for hours. It didn't move, but Aeric could feel something from it — not a presence exactly, but an awareness. A silent weight.
"You carried me here, didn't you?"
No response. Just stillness.
Guess that's a yes.
Aeric's thoughts swirled, trying to lock onto something solid. Gary. The monster. The bus. The sword. The choice.
He fumbled for his phone. Still intact.
Friday — 5:00 AM
His stomach dropped.
This is earlier. Way earlier.
Before the subjugation.
Before the advance team entered the dungeon.
Before the massacre.
"I'm ahead of the timeline…"
The realization crashed down on him like a tidal wave. He staggered to his feet, heart pounding.
They're not dead yet.
I can stop it.
The faint clatter of crates and murmurs of half-asleep vendors carried across the square as Aeric limped past the first few rows of pop-up stalls. The morning haze hadn't even lifted yet, and Devil's Gulch was already coming to life — canvas flaps thrown open, signs being hooked into place, steam rising from somewhere frying eggs on a camp stove.
Aeric's gaze cut toward a familiar clanking sound.
There he was.
Dorrin — same squat frame, same beard like a steel wool explosion, hammering something on a portable anvil like the apocalypse wasn't his problem. Just like before.
Aeric stepped into the dwarven vendor's makeshift booth without hesitation, letting the golem lumber behind him like a silent bodyguard. The few nearby merchants gave the hulking summon a wide berth.
"Morning, Dorrin," Aeric said flatly, trying not to sound too familiar.
Dorrin paused, looked up — then squinted like he'd been handed a riddle written backwards. "...Do I know you, lad?"
Aeric froze for a half-second.
Right. Fresh timeline. No dungeon. No death. No sword.
"Must be mixing you up with someone else," Aeric covered, brushing past it. "You've got one of those faces."
"Hmph." Dorrin grunted and returned to organizing his wares, but his eyes lingered on Aeric longer than necessary. "Well, if you're here for gear, don't just stand there. Prices're fair, and nothing on that rack's ornamental."
Aeric stepped toward the weapons bench, but his breath caught in his throat.
The sword wasn't there.
The one he'd got from this exact stall — the one that bled smoke and firelight when he pulled it in the dungeon — was nowhere to be seen. Not even a close match.
It never existed. Not in this version of today.
A chill swept through him like someone ran ice water down his spine.
"Looking for something in particular?" Dorrin asked, leaning on the table.
Aeric shook it off. "Something balanced. I'm gonna be dealing with close-range threats, but I'm not built like a wall. I need mobility, some defense. Enough offense to not die."
Dorrin grunted approvingly. "Ah. The 'not die' kit. My favorite kind. Wait here."
He ducked into a side bin, rummaging through crates and clanking metal. Aeric kept glancing over the weapon racks, half-expecting that smokey blade to just flicker back into existence. It didn't.
"Here," Dorrin said, returning with a sheathed short sword and a collapsible buckler.
"The sword's a half-mage alloy. Holds up against enchantments and won't shatter under a stress burst. The buckler's light but reinforced with mana-treated steel. You won't block an ogre's punch, but it'll take a claw swipe or two."
Aeric took both pieces in hand and felt the faint hum of energy inside the sword. Nothing magical, not really — but tuned. Reliable.
"How much?" Aeric asked.
"Usually? More than you've got. But… I like the look in your eye," Dorrin said, eyes narrowing. "Like you already know what kind of hell you're walkin' into."
Aeric smiled faintly. "Let's just say I've seen what happens if I don't prepare."
Dorrin snorted. "Fair enough."
Dorrin started packing the blade and buckler into a reinforced satchel when Aeric cleared his throat.
"Hey… you still stock those red-stoppered elixirs?" he asked casually, eyeing the racks behind the counter.
Dorrin tilted his head, brushing his beard back. "I do. But not many folk outside the Tower or Hunters go askin' about those by name."
Aeric shrugged, trying to play it off. "Heard they pack more punch for the price. Wasn't sure if it was just some black market rumor."
The dwarf eyed him for a moment, then turned and grabbed a wooden case from under the counter, popping it open. Inside were several small vials, capped in dark red wax.
"They'll numb the pain, push your body past where it wants to stop. Just don't go thinking they'll save you if your head's halfway off," Dorrin said. "How many?"
"Two," Aeric said. Then, after a beat, "...Three. Just in case."
As Dorrin wrapped the vials in thick cloth and added them to the satchel, his eyes drifted behind Aeric — to the silent red golem standing just outside the booth. It stood perfectly still, like a statue carved out of dried blood and stone. The little horns atop its head glinted faintly in the growing light of morning.
Dorrin's brow furrowed. "And what in the Nine Foundries is that?"
Aeric glanced back. "That's… new."
The dwarf didn't laugh. He leaned forward on the counter, voice low now.
"It's bound to you?"
"I think so," Aeric said. "Maybe. I didn't use a binding spell, but it hasn't left my side since I woke up."
Dorrin studied Aeric's face. "Did you make it?"
Aeric hesitated. "Sort of."
"That's a 'yes, but I don't know how I did,' if I ever heard one." Dorrin tapped the side of his nose. "I've seen constructs. Even helped forge parts for a few. But that thing? There's a soul in it. Or something close."
Aeric stiffened.
Dorrin caught the reaction. "You didn't intend for that, did you."
"No," Aeric said, quietly. "I didn't."
Dorrin leaned back, arms crossed. "Hmph. Well. Either way, you ought to be careful with it. Golems like that… they don't always stay tame. Especially the ones that start talking."
Aeric blinked. "Wait, talking?"
Dorrin nodded toward the stall next door. "That vendor over there — kid was hauling in his spice crates when your summon carried you in and set you down earlier. Said it muttered something real low. Called you Hoss, I think."
Aeric's stomach turned.
He looked at the golem again. It didn't move.
Dorrin's voice dropped. "Whatever you've wrapped yourself up in, lad… be smart about it. Power comes with strings. Just hope yours don't pull too tight."
Aeric offered a tense smile, accepting the satchel. "Thanks for the gear."
"Don't thank me yet," Dorrin muttered. "Just come back alive."
Aeric left the stall with the golem trailing behind, heavy steps thudding softly on the compacted dirt. Dorrin's stare stayed glued to his back the entire walk away — not quite distrustful, but not sold either.
Didn't matter. He got what he needed.
Three and a half hours. That was the window.
Then the advance team would walk into the meat grinder like he'd seen before. If he was gonna stop it — really stop it — he needed more than resolve and recycled gear. He needed levels. Skills. A reason the system didn't censor half his stat screen.
Aeric's boots crunched over loose gravel as he paced the outer edge of Devil's Gulch, scanning the terrain with more purpose this time. He passed by groups of recruits milling around the field tents — bright-eyed, fresh, and completely unprepared. One group lined up at a makeshift check-in post. Another stood at attention while a grizzled officer barked at them over a clipboard, flinging out instructions like they'd be enough to keep anyone alive.
They wouldn't be.
Not against what he saw in that dungeon.
A voice surfaced in his mind — Marcello, laughing the day they all first got assigned together.
"You're not allowed to die until you buy me lunch, transporter."
Then Theresa, not missing a beat:
"Make it two lunches. You're twice as dumb as he is."
He swallowed hard.
They weren't dead yet. He still had time.
But not much.
A few paces behind him, the golem followed without a word. Heavy-footed but eerily measured — like it didn't just see him, but watched.
Aeric didn't turn around. He could feel its gaze pressing into his back — not oppressive, but heavy. Intentional.
Like it remembered everything.
Even the parts he was still trying to forget.
He exhaled shakily. "Three and a half hours," he muttered again. "No pressure."
His eyes scanned the terrain — beyond the field posts, past the rusted fencing and forgotten barricades. Past a small rise where the cliffside jutted awkwardly into itself.
He almost passed it.
But then —
A smell. Smoke and hot stone. Like the aftermath of a spell miscast too close. A memory collided with the scent — not from the Gulch, but from some seedy bar outside the city, years back. Two drunken Hunters, one slumped sideways on a stool, the other talking too loud:
"Pocket dungeons. Bleeds. Early fragments of rifts that break off before the main gate opens. No oversight. No backup. High risk, high yield."
Aeric's pulse spiked.
He doubled back toward the cliff, eyes narrowed.
There — behind a row of tangled brush and sagging chain, he spotted it:
A thin crack in the stone, just barely visible. Crooked and half-eaten by time. Like the mountain itself wanted to forget it existed.
He stepped closer, pushing branches aside.
From within the crevice came a pulse — not light, not exactly. More like static. Something on the edge of tangible, unsettled. Like a breath held for too long.
Aeric drew the short sword. His grip was tense, jaw tighter. "Alright," he whispered, more to himself than the golem. "Let's see what you've got."
Behind him, the golem let out a low, grinding hum — not warning, but not comfort either. Aeric didn't dare look at it. He didn't want to know what expression it might've had. If it even had expressions.
He turned toward the opening and stepped forward.
[System Error Detected]
[Timeline Inconsistency Present]
[Resynchronization Commencing…]
Aeric froze mid-step, the screen jittering in front of him like it was trying to tear through its own code. Another pulse ran through the crevice, and the air thickened — pressing against his lungs like wet cement.
The glow surrounding his body flickered.
"What now?" he muttered, voice sharp with nerves. "Don't glitch out on me, system. Not when I've finally got a chance."
Lines of unfamiliar script — jagged, alien — scrolled behind the translucent screen like a waterfall in reverse.
[Resyncing user: Aeric Pentafrax]
[Current Sync Level: 43%... 67%... 81%...]
[Soul Anchor Detected. Sync Stabilized.]
[Resynchronization Complete.]
Just like that, it vanished.
The corridor ahead rippled — not like magic, but something more ancient. Like reality didn't quite trust what he was doing.
Aeric exhaled slow, the tension squeezing his ribs.
The golem said nothing.
He didn't know if that made him feel better or worse.
He glanced at his phone, then typed out a quick message.
[Aeric]: Already at Devil's Gulch. I'll meet up with you both before the raid kicks off at 9.
He stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary — then locked it and slipped it away.
No time to explain. No time to be afraid.
He gripped the sword tighter.
"Alright. One foot in the grave already. Let's earn it."
And with that, he descended.
The spiral stairs wound downward, tight and uneven, like they hadn't been carved so much as grown by something that didn't care for human footing. Aeric's boots scraped stone. The golem's weight rumbled behind him, each step sounding too loud in the silence.
No screens. No "dungeon entry" alert. No change in air pressure.
Just that flicker from before — a pulse beneath the stone, rhythmic and faint. Like a heartbeat trying to sync with his own.
This place… it wasn't just hidden. It was wrong.
[System Alert: Spatial Boundary Breach]
[Rift Signature: Absent]
[Resync Required — Complete]
[Unstable Instance Detected]
[Pocket Dungeon: Classification Pending]
[Enemy Type: GOBLIN (Standard)]
[Concentration: HIGH-TO-CRITICAL]
[Objectives: Undefined]
[Support: Severely Limited]
[Recommended Action: Exit immediately]
Aeric scoffed. "Yeah. Not happening."
The system flickered, then vanished again. The quiet returned — but it wasn't stillness. It was pressure. A low, invisible force weighing on his ribs, his jaw, the back of his skull. The air had a tilt to it, like gravity here hadn't gotten the memo.
Even the golem was unusually still.
Aeric didn't glance back, but he felt it. The same silence it had carried when it laid him down outside the Gulch. Quiet loyalty, humming with something more than essence — something watching.
It hadn't spoken again since the vendor heard it.
That was probably for the best.
The path opened into a narrow chamber, carved unnaturally from stone. Old claw marks scraped the walls in tangled spirals. Bones lined the edges. Too small to be human. Too many to be anything but deliberate.
Aeric's stomach tightened.
This wasn't one of those clean training spaces newer Hunters got spoon-fed. This was raw. Crude. A den built beneath notice, never cleared, never meant to be touched again.
A flicker of memory clawed its way up — Marcello laughing as a goblin bit his boot and refused to let go.
"Can't even get mad. Little bastard's got spirit!"
Theresa, groaning behind them, "Focus, idiots. One mistake in a horde and they're chewing through your femurs before your soul finishes ejecting."
They weren't here. Not yet.
But they would be. And if Aeric failed again, he'd be the one digging through the aftermath. Or worse, buried in it.
He took a breath and pushed further into the dark. One hand on the sword's hilt, the other trailing the wall as the passage narrowed again.
Then he heard it — not a growl or a howl. Just a click.
Then another. Higher up. Faster.
Chittering.
Aeric stopped dead, heartbeat slowing even as his pulse climbed.
A low snarl echoed from above — then silence.
The system flared.
[Threat Detected]
[Hostiles Approaching]
[Type: Goblin – Unarmed Scout Class]
[Estimated Count: 3… 7… 14… 23…]
The numbers kept climbing.
Aeric slid the short sword free, blade whispering out of its sheath. The golem stepped to his right, a soundless signal — ready.
His jaw tightened.
"Alright then."
He leveled the sword. A glint of light caught the edge — not magic, just cold steel and a steady grip.
"Let's see if second chances are good for something after all."
The goblins struck fast — screeching, lanky things with jagged teeth and rusted blades, pouring out of tunnels high above like a burst pipe of meat and murder.
Aeric didn't wait.
He pivoted, ducked a swipe, and drove his sword straight through the neck of the first one to hit the ground.
[Essence Absorbed]
[Experience Gained: +60 XP]
The body barely hit the floor before the next leapt at him, knife raised. The golem intercepted mid-air, its massive hand closing around the goblin's torso with a sickening crunch before slamming it into the stone.
Then again.
Then again.
Aeric winced as gore splattered his boots. "You got anger issues, buddy?"
The golem grunted. Low. Almost amused.
A shriek from his left — Aeric turned, parried, then slashed clean through a goblin's chest. Another scream. Another system ping.
[+40 XP]
[+50 XP]
[+62 XP]
Blood steamed off the stone. Goblin corpses piled up in every direction, but more kept coming. From above, below, side tunnels. Claws scraped and teeth snapped as the horde funneled through the narrow chamber like rats down a drainpipe.
Aeric backed toward the golem, catching his breath. "Alright. Let's not die here."
The golem roared — not loud, but deep, like an avalanche in its throat — and charged into the wave. It swept low, bowling over three goblins in one movement. Aeric ducked behind, stabbed upward into a throat, then rolled to avoid a thrown spear that clattered behind him.
He and the golem moved in rhythm. Not perfect. Not trained. But something close. He'd strike the distracted ones. It would shield his blind spots. Every few kills, a fresh ping.
[+55 XP]
[+47 XP]
Then, just as the last goblin crumpled to the ground, something shifted.
The air tightened. The pressure spiked.
From the far tunnel, deeper into the stone, came the dragging clink of metal and the stomp of heavy boots.
A silhouette formed in the dark.
Bigger. Broader. Covered in scrap armor held together by wire and bone. Red eyes glared from beneath a crude, horned helm. It raised a jagged axe the size of Aeric's torso.
[GOBLIN CHIEF SPAWNED]
[Difficulty: MID-RANK ELITE]
[Warning: Target Displays Berserker Traits]
[Essence Concentration: HIGH]
[XP Reward Potential: SUBSTANTIAL]
Aeric narrowed his eyes, sweat clinging to his brow.
Of course.
The golem stepped beside him, fists clenched, frame tensing like it knew the real fight had just started.
Aeric exhaled, steadying his grip on the sword.
"Okay, big guy. One more round."
The Goblin Chief roared as it stepped into the chamber, the walls vibrating with each stomp. Aeric's heartbeat thundered in his ears.
This thing wasn't like the others. Bigger. Stronger. More aware.
It swung its massive axe down with deadly intent. Aeric barely dodged, but not fast enough. The edge of the axe grazed his side, ripping through his T-shirt and tearing flesh. Pain shot up his spine.
[HP: 300/3200]
[Damage Taken: 132]
He stumbled back, hand clutching his side. Blood seeped through his fingers. The wound burned.
The golem charged first. With a brutal, earth-shattering thud, it collided with the Goblin Chief, sending the massive creature skidding back. But the Chief only growled, swinging its axe toward the golem's head. The golem caught the strike with its forearm, but the force threw it back a few feet.
Aeric shook his head, trying to refocus. He couldn't hesitate now. Not after everything. Not when this was his chance.
He dove forward, using his sword to parry a swing from the Chief. The blow knocked him back, but his sword was still intact. Barely. He could feel the vibrations in his hand as the blade rattled from the impact.
But the Chief didn't stop. It swung again — quicker this time, and with a savage power behind it. Aeric barely managed to dodge, rolling to the side, but the force of the blow sent a shockwave through his body, nearly knocking the wind out of him.
[HP: 255/3200]
[Damage Taken: 55]
He didn't have time to recover. The Chief was on him in seconds, the axe aimed directly for his head.
Without thinking, Aeric raised his sword and blocked the strike with everything he had. The sound of steel clashing against steel filled the air, deafening.
But the power of the swing was too much.
His shield arm buckled under the pressure. The force drove him to his knees, and his sword nearly slipped from his grasp. His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision dimming as the pain from his wounds intensified.
The golem acted instinctively.
It surged forward with a roar, tackling the Goblin Chief with full force, knocking it back a few paces. The Chief staggered, surprised by the sheer force, but it recovered almost immediately.
The golem grabbed it by the shoulders, slamming the Chief into the ground. Aeric scrambled to his feet, gasping for air.
This wasn't just a fight for survival. This was a test. His body, his system — everything was on the line.
He wasn't going to die here.
Not again.
Aeric found his footing and rushed in. His sword sang through the air as he lunged at the Goblin Chief, the blade slicing into the creature's side. It howled in pain, swinging its axe wildly. Aeric blocked, but the force of the blow sent him tumbling back, his body hitting the stone floor with a sickening thud.
[HP: 205/3200]
[Damage Taken: 50]
The world spun around him. He couldn't see straight. He couldn't think straight.
The Chief was still standing, but barely. It was angry. Furious. And it wasn't going down without a fight.
His heart pounded. He was so close. Just a little more. He had to do this.
Aeric's thoughts clicked into place.
He couldn't rely on just his sword. He had the system now. The power.
He needed to unlock it.
And then it hit him.
Essence.
All this time, he had been absorbing it. Passively. He had no idea what it could do — until now.
The Goblin Chief charged, swinging its axe down toward him. Aeric thrust his sword forward, focusing every ounce of willpower he had into it.
[Essence Overload Detected]
[Activation of Sanguial Knight Class: Unlocked]
His sword glowed. Not the way it did when he fought the first monster in the dungeon, but something different. Something more alive.
[Sanguial Knight class attained.]
[Class Skill Unlocked: Hemoblade Arts – Style I: Severance]
[Class Skill Unlocked: Gorebrand]
The air twisted — like something beneath reality had shifted.
The golem roared and slammed into the Goblin Chief, catching its axe mid-swing. Metal screamed as the monster was driven backward, clawing to free itself. It barely had time to snarl.
Aeric moved.
Power surged through him like a second heartbeat — red and burning. His hand tightened around the sword hilt as his blood answered the call.
[Gorebrand Activated.]
The blade pulsed. It didn't glow — it hungered.
Aeric lunged.
One clean step. Then another.
[Hemoblade Arts – Style I: Severance.]
The strike came from the hip — wide, cleaving, brutal. Blood geysered from the Chief's side. It reeled, screeching, but Aeric was already moving, carving through the beast's thigh, spinning in, driving the final blow straight into its chest. The Chief spasmed, coughed black gore, then collapsed with a wet thud.
[Goblin Chief Defeated]
[XP Gained: +3,400]
[Sanguial Knight Bonus XP: +1,700]
[Level Up: 36 → 41]
[Skill Unlocked: Bloodbound Step]
[Skill Unlocked: Last Drop Aegis]
Aeric stood over the body, chest heaving, vision narrowed to a red haze.
The rest of the dungeon lay silent now — goblin corpses in every direction, dozens of them. Some hacked apart by his blade. Others crushed beneath the golem's fists.
A mess of blood, stone, and steam.
[Additional XP Gained: +8,000]
[Streak Bonus: +2,000]
[First Clear Bonus: +2,500]
[Sanguial Knight Class Bonus: +3,000]
The screens stacked. Piled. Flashed rapid-fire in front of his eyes.
[Level Up: 42 → 50]
[Class Evolution Achieved: Sanguial Knight]
[Congratulations, Aeric Pentafrax.]
As Aeric gripped the hilt still buried in the Chief's chest, a rush of essence surged up through the blade and into him — hot, electric, and final, like the dungeon itself was giving him its last breath.
Aeric blinked hard, breath ragged. His sword dipped low in his grip, slick with blood that sizzled faintly against the steel.
Something inside him felt heavier now. Anchored.
Power had been the goal — and it came. In screams and steel and death. But this? This was more than just strength.
It was momentum.
And momentum meant survival.
The golem lumbered to his side, silent as ever, standing among the ruin.
Aeric wiped blood from his cheek, spit copper to the stone, and stared toward the end of the corridor.
The dungeon was cleared.
The window was still open.
He flexed his fingers.
"…Alright," he said, voice low. "Now we really get to work.No more resets. No more regrets. Not this time."